


Spoils of War

by fiddleyoumust



Category: Bandom, Panic At The Disco
Genre: GSF - Freeform, Gang Bang, Group Sex, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-31
Updated: 2011-12-31
Packaged: 2017-10-28 13:29:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/308346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fiddleyoumust/pseuds/fiddleyoumust
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Brendon gets a gang bang for his birthday.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Spoils of War

**Author's Note:**

> I co-wrote this with stephanometra on LJ. It was originally posted to her journal [here](http://stephanometra.livejournal.com/308535.html).

Brendon wakes everyone up on his birthday by singing at the top of his lungs, because it's his birthday and thus his solemn right to be as obnoxious as possible.

"Wake up, wake up," he sings in some nonsense tune that may or may not actually be from an ABBA song. He kind of forgets.

Jon's the first to succumb, groaning as he throws back the curtain on his bunk. "Awake, awake," he grumbles, adorable in his half-asleep Jon Walker way. "God, what time is it?"

"It's birthday time!" Brendon says, bounding over to the bunks.

"It was your birthday when we went to bed last night, too," Jon says, turning onto his side, squinting at Brendon in the dim light. "And yet you were not nearly this loud."

"Whatever," Brendon scoffs. "Midnight only counts at Christmas and New Year's, Jon. Now it's my birthday and I demand presents."

Jon arches an eyebrow. "Oh, we've got a present for you."

Brendon grins. "Is it a sexy present?" he asks, barely containing his glee, because he knows that expression—it's Jon's patented I-am-going-to-fuck-you-into-next-week look. It doesn't really come out to play all that often, but Brendon's birthday is totally a fitting occasion for it to make an appearance. He climbs into Jon's bunk, plants his knees on either side of Jon's thighs and leans in close. "Can I have it now?"

Jon smiles and tangles his hand in Brendon's hair, nosing against the thin skin where Brendon's ear meets his jaw, and they're just about to settle into some very, very awesome early-morning birthday makeouts when Spencer throws back his curtain with entirely undue bitchiness.

"Brendon, I swear to God," Spencer says, swinging his legs out of his bunk and standing up. "I don't even care if it's your birthday; if you're going to wake me up at ass o'clock with purposefully off-key singing and loud sex with Jon, you'd better have made coffee first." He reaches into the bunk to flick Brendon's ear as he passes on his way to the front of the bus.

"You're just jealous that Jon didn't get you a sexy present!" Brendon calls after him, gasping when Jon gently nips at the curve of his jaw.

"It's not his birthday," Ryan says sleepily from behind his curtain. "Also, seriously, it's too fucking early for this."

"Details which do not concern me!" Brendon declares, and then he leans in close to Jon's mouth and murmurs, "Ready for my present, now," against Jon's lips.

Jon smiles, shifts, and kisses the tip of Brendon's nose. "Later," he says, just as Spencer starts yelling from the kitchenette upon discovering that Brendon did, in fact, make coffee, but it's the double chocolate-macadamia nut kind that Spencer and Jon have repeatedly told Brendon is an affront to both good taste and sane coffee drinkers everywhere.

Whatever. It's his birthday. He's entitled to have whatever the fuck kind of coffee he wants.

 

Brendon knows most people find it quite shocking upon discovery, but he is not a very patient person. When he wants things, he wants them right now. And right now? He really wants to be in a hotel room, on a hotel bed, with his three favorite people.

Instead, he's at sound check. In half an hour, he'll be at meet and greet, and an hour after that the show will be starting. Brendon thinks he might implode before he actually gets his present.

Ryan slings an arm over his shoulder when they're through with sound check and says, "Stop pouting. Your lip is making me want to do things to you."

Brendon perks up. "Really?" he asks hopefully.

Ryan scratches his nails down the back of Brendon's neck, and Brendon shivers involuntarily. "Soon," Ryan says low, his voice full of promise.

Brendon pouts again. "But it's my birthday!" he says.

Ryan smiles, squeezing the back of Brendon's neck once, before he says, "You're impossible."

Brendon bounces on the balls of his feet and beams at Ryan. "You love me, Ross," he says, raising his voice as Ryan waves him off and walks away. "Don't even try to deny it!"

The next four hours crawl by. Brendon's always been amazed at time's ability to slow down and speed up on a whim. Brendon's on the verge of being cranky, because even with the show behind them, he knows he's still not going to get what he wants.

Brendon's family is here, and twenty-one is a rite of passage that he can't sweep under the rug just because he has a very important orgy to attend. They plan a party, renting out the pool area of their hotel, and everyone seems to be having a good time. Everyone except for Brendon. Brendon doesn't really even want a party, because this has been the longest show of Brendon's life, and he's ready for his goddamn present now, thank you very much.

Ryan and Spencer are off doing that thing they do where they pretend like no one else in the world exists, and Brendon's on the verge of being really fucking annoyed when he catches Jon's eye from across the pool. Jon's giving him that same look from this morning, and Brendon's gut clenches with desire. Brendon is so getting laid tonight, and Spencer and Ryan can either come and join in, or miss out. Brendon's not going to worry about them anymore.

Brendon makes his way over to Jon and wraps himself around Jon's arm. "Present time?" he asks enthusiastically.

Jon grins and grabs Brendon by the hand.

 

"Jon Walker, you are a greedy little fucker," Ryan announces when they walk into the room, and Brendon laughs breathlessly.

"Shut up, Ross," he says, rolling his hips against Jon's. "It's my birthday."

"Is that your answer to everything?" Spencer asks.

"Today it is," Brendon returns, and then breaks off into a thready moan when Jon pulls him back hard onto his cock. "Oh, fuck, Jon, just like that."

"You're still assholes for starting without us," Ryan says, kneeling on the bed, unbuttoning his shirt.

"He didn't give me much of a choice," Jon pants, leaning forward to bite at the back of Brendon's neck.

"Likely story," Ryan murmurs, and leans in to kiss Jon over Brendon's shoulder, tapping his fingers on Brendon's hip.

Brendon whines; the position is almost a tease, kneeling up together, Jon's chest fitted against his back. Brendon's weight pins down Jon's hips, and Jon's arm is snug around Brendon's waist, preventing him from taking control the way he wants to. It's torture, is what it is, the sweetest, best kind of torture, Jon hot and thick inside him and fucking him with deep, short strokes, Ryan's hand so close to Brendon's needy cock. "Ryan," he says, hips shifting the tiny bit that Jon will allow, trying to push his dick into Ryan's hand, anything for some friction. "Ryan, please."

And Ryan rolls his eyes, but he wraps an obliging hand around Brendon's cock and moves to kiss him at the same time, muffling Brendon's cry with his tongue.

Brendon drops his head back against Jon's shoulder, pressing up against Jon's arm around his middle, moaning. The bed dips again next to them, and Spencer kisses Brendon first, then Jon, then drops his head to lick at the sweat gathering in the hollow of Brendon's throat. It's awesome, it's amazing, being surrounded by the three of them like this. He never wants it to end.

Ryan kisses him again, fingers twisting cleverly on his cock, pushing Brendon closer to coming, and it takes a supreme effort, but Brendon tears back from his mouth, gasping, and says, "No, no. Don't want to come yet."

Spencer laughs, trailing a hand down Brendon's chest. "Too bad," he says, and his hand joins Ryan's on Brendon's cock, squeezing, and Brendon cries out sharply and comes all over Ryan and Spencer's fingers.

Jon's grip on his waist loosens, his hands going to Brendon's hips as he fucks him through it. He groans and then gives Brendon a gentle shove between his shoulder blades, tipping him forward onto Ryan, changing the angle, making Brendon moan brokenly. The new position lets Jon fuck him harder, faster, his hips smacking Brendon's ass obscenely, his fingers digging into Brendon's hips. He wonders if he'll have bruises later, and he shudders, seeking Ryan's mouth just so he'll have an anchor, something to hold on to as Jon thrusts into him, groaning as he comes.

He pulls out too fast, making Brendon wince, but Spencer's right there with slick fingers, pressing into Brendon's ass, holding him open, stroking him on the inside to soothe the burn.

"Spence," he says, rocking back against Spencer's hand, eyes fluttering shut.

"Shh," Spencer says, his other hand stroking reassuringly over Brendon's lower back. "You can have more, just give Ryan a second to get ready."

Brendon raises up when Ryan's hands push on his hips, whines as he feels Ryan's fingers busy between them, unzipping his pants and rolling on a condom. Jon's hands slip in between them to slick Ryan's dick, and then Spencer's fingers are gently sliding free, his hands lifting Brendon up and moving him into position over Ryan's cock.

Spencer pushes him down, makes him take Ryan in one fast, hot slide, and Brendon cries out again at the feel of Ryan filling him up, opening his eyes again to see Ryan biting his lip.

"Christ, Bren," Ryan says, and then his fingers are lacing with Spencer's on Brendon's hips, encouraging him up, pulling him back down as Ryan's hips thrust up off the bed. Brendon just lets them manhandle him, his arms and legs feeling liquid and heavy so soon after coming.

Spencer pulls him upright again, shifting Brendon's knees so that he's sitting directly on Ryan's dick while Spencer kneels between Ryan's legs behind him, letting Brendon lean back against his chest. "How does that feel?" Spencer asks, kissing the side of Brendon's neck.

Brendon moans and shakes his head, because there aren't words for what he's feeling, the fullness, the heat, the full-body lassitude of getting fucked again so soon after coming. But Spencer asks again, nipping sharply at Brendon's earlobe until he manages, "Good, it's good."

He feels Spencer's smile against his cheek. "Not as good as it's gonna be," he says, and reaches down to stroke the base of Brendon's cock, half-hard still, but the urgency's gone.

It returns full-force under Spencer's fingers, though, especially when Ryan starts circling his hips on his upstrokes, rubbing deliberately against Brendon's prostate, and somehow Ryan pulling him down onto his cock turns into Brendon flexing his thighs, rocking up and down, between the stretch of Ryan in his ass and the sure touch of Spencer's hand.

Jon has curled up next to Ryan, leaning into his shoulder to kiss him lazily, and Brendon can't stop watching the way their mouths slide together, like his eyes don't want to focus on anything else.

Ryan's breath stutters when he comes, his hands sliding down Brendon's hips to clutch bruisingly at the muscle of Brendon's thighs, and Brendon moans in disappointment when Ryan goes boneless under him, stops pushing up into his ass.

Brendon rocks forward into Spencer's grip, needing to come again; Spencer just works over the head of Brendon's cock, smearing his thumb through the slick gathered there, and says, "Hey, it's okay, we're not done with you yet," sounding amused. He presses a little closer to Brendon, lets Brendon feel how hard he is, thrusting a little against the sweaty skin of Brendon's lower back. "Come on," he says, breath hot in Brendon's ear. "Come on, so I can fuck you next."

And Brendon can't not—can't refuse that kind of request. He comes shaking in Spencer's arms, and Ryan cries out as Brendon clenches down on his oversensitive cock. Spencer lets him go, backing away, and Brendon drops forward again. He feels Ryan slips free, and he moans at the loss, at the emptiness, panting as he rests against Ryan's chest.

Ryan shifts under him. "Goddammit, Brendon, you're heavy." He pushes at Brendon's shoulder ineffectually; his limbs probably feel just as heavy and uncooperative as Brendon's.

"M'not," Brendon says, his tongue feeling sluggish in his mouth. "You're a wuss."

Jon snickers. "He's got a point," he says, and when Ryan slowly swivels his head to glare at him, he just leans forward and kisses him again.

"Hey, hey," Brendon says, indignant that there are sloppy makeouts going on six inches from his face in which he is not directly involved. "Birthday!"

"Oh, right," Jon says, breaking away from Ryan's lips. He leans forward to brush his mouth across Brendon's, and he tastes like Ryan's cigarettes. Brendon hums happily into the kiss.

"Brendon," Spencer says, and then he's dragging Brendon away from Jon's mouth and rolling him over onto his back, spreading his thighs and pushing them up to his chest so Brendon's folded in half. Spencer's cock drags wetly across the curve of Brendon's ass, and then Spencer's pressing inside, one long, steady thrust until he bottoms out.

Brendon's hands automatically go to Spencer's shoulders, writhing as he takes Spencer's dick, fingers slipping as he tries to find purchase on the sweat-slick skin of Spencer's arms. "Oh, God," he moans.

Spencer stills above him, holding himself back even though Brendon can feel his body trembling with the effort. "Bren," he says, breathless, groaning, reaching up to push Brendon's sweaty bangs out of his eyes. "You're okay, right? This is okay?"

Brendon shudders, arching, canting his hips up so his thighs are pressed tight against Spencer's hips. He hooks his ankles in the small of Spencer's back, and that seems to be all the answer Spencer needs. He pulls out and then thrusts back in with a snarl, leaning down to bite at Brendon's lips, and Brendon opens for the kiss eagerly, tangling his fingers in Spencer's hair.

Brendon is so open and slick that there's no resistance when Spencer fucks into him, pushing the breath from Brendon's lungs with the weight of his body and the intensity of the feeling. Jon and Ryan curl up at his sides, bracketing him with the warmth of their bodies, and Brendon has never felt so enfolded, so loved. It overwhelms him, and he totally gives himself over to it, to just holding on and letting them surround him.

His mouth works, trying to form words. "I—" he manages, and then he breaks off into wordless cries again. It's just too much.

Ryan strokes his chest soothingly, leaning in to kiss his neck. "So fucking hot," he whispers against Brendon's skin. "God, Brendon, you should see yourself."

"Fuck, yeah," Jon says, as Ryan turns Brendon's head with gentle fingers and leans in to kiss him messy and deep. "Spence is fucking you so hard you're going to feel it for days, Brendon, and you're just—you're just taking it, loving it." He catches one of Brendon's hands and brings it to his lips, sucking two of Brendon's fingers into his mouth, rubbing his bottom teeth over the pads of his fingers, and Brendon moans his agreement into Ryan's mouth.

"We could keep you here all night, couldn't we?" Ryan says against Brendon's lips. "Keep you on your back, on your knees, just fuck you all night."

Jon squeezes Brendon's hand, pulls Brendon's fingers free from his lips with an obscene pop. "He's already taken it from all of us once; I bet he could do it again."

Brendon opens his mouth, whether to agree or object he doesn't know, but then Spencer shifts, rolls his hips, does something different that sends Brendon's body from humming with pleasure to screaming with it, and all that comes out is a high, choked-off whimper.

"So hot," Ryan says again, sounding dazed, and then Jon's turning Brendon's head to take a turn tongue-fucking Brendon's mouth, and everything feels so good that Brendon's eyes lose the ability to focus, his vision going soft and hazy around the edges.

And Spencer just keeps fucking him, slow and steady and deep, through it all, through Jon whispering that he loves watching Brendon like this and Ryan repeating over and over how gorgeous he is, until suddenly he's picking up the pace, hips moving a little more frantically as he strokes in.

Brendon moans at the change, dropping his head back, and Ryan's eyes snap to Spencer's, questioning.

"He's close," Ryan says, totally unnecessarily, but it still makes all of them groan anyway.

"Are you gonna make Spencer come, Brendon?" Jon asks, the words hot and soft like his breath against Brendon's ear. "You want that, right?"

Lost in sensation, sobbing with it, Brendon just cries out again, clutching at Spencer's shoulder, at Jon's thigh, anything to ground him.

"Ask him for it," Ryan orders. "Go on."

Somehow Brendon manages to find words, breathing out, "Please, please," before a particularly hard thrust renders him speechless again.

"Please what?" Jon says, thumbing over Brendon's nipple.

Brendon whines, digging his fingers into the back of Spencer's neck. He shuts his eyes—they're useless, anyway—and concentrates on the quick, rhythmic rasp of Spencer's breathing, of the way the air moves in the close space between them. "Please," he moans again, finding his voice. "Please, Spence, I want it."

Spencer cries out when he comes, this sharp, gorgeous sound, and it echoes in Brendon's veins like the throb of Spencer's cock in his ass. He pulls free as soon as he stops shaking and immediately shimmies down the bed, his fingers slipping inside Brendon's ass again as he swallows Brendon's dick.

And Brendon is just fucking gone, checked out, totally mindless with the feel of it. He's sure he can't come again, but his body is trying, straining towards it as he fucks up into Spencer's mouth, back onto Spencer's fingers, stroking hard and relentless over that perfect place inside. He hurts and he wants and it feels so, so fucking good that all he can do is sob out his pleasure.

Ryan presses closer, stroking over the jut of Brendon's hip, the crease of his thigh, so close to where Spencer's mouth is wrapped tight and perfect around Brendon's cock. "Come on," he says, tongue flicking out to trace the shell of Brendon's ear. "Come for us, Bren, come in his mouth. He wants it, we all want it. We all want you."

And trembling, feeling the weakness in the spasming of his thighs, Brendon does, groaning as he thrusts into Spencer's mouth one last time.

Jon's right there, pulling Spencer back from Brendon's dick as soon as Brendon goes still, and he kisses Spencer deeply, licking Brendon's come out of Spencer's mouth. Ryan makes a noise and reaches for Spencer, too, pulls him up and does the same thing, tangling their tongues together. Then Spencer stretches out on top of Brendon and kisses him, last and deepest and best, and Brendon can taste Jon and Ryan and himself on Spencer's tongue.

Spencer rolls off to the side, panting, and they all lay there for a moment in a sweaty heap, legs tangled together.

Brendon's pretty sure he's elbowing Ryan in the side, and his right knee is lying on top of someone's thigh, but he's too fucked-out to move. He feels his eyes dropping shut, the lure of sleep very, very strong after coming three times in less than an hour, which he's pretty sure he hasn't done since he was a kid just discovering what his dick was for, and that's not a time he particularly wants to remember, because it was unfortunately before he discovered lube. He winces at the memory.

Ryan pokes at his arm. "Hey," he says, and Brendon just slowly turns his face towards the sound, too tired to poke back.

"I think we broke him," Spencer says, sounding almost worried. Brendon loves Spencer.

"He's not broken," Jon says. "He just needs to recharge."

"God," Brendon moans. "Please don't plug me in. I'll die."

Then they're all shaking with laughter, the bed under them practically vibrating with it, and yeah, this is the best birthday ever.

Eventually Brendon says, "Aren't we supposed to be at a party right now?"

Ryan laughs again, patting Brendon's thigh. "Yeah, your party."

"We should maybe be getting back to that, actually," Spencer suggests.

Brendon blinks up at the ceiling, considering. "I'm—I'm not sure I can move. Ever again."

Jon laughs. "Liar." His fingers creep over Brendon's thigh to dip between his legs, gently tracing his rim, and he says, "See? You can totally move," when Brendon shudders and inhales on a whine.

Brendon flails out an arm, smacking Jon's chest. "Assface," he says.

"Hey!" Jon yelps. "You're the one who demanded a sexy present!"

"Mm, yeah I did." Brendon stretches, groaning at the soreness in his thighs, his ass. "Jesus. I can't believe you guys expect me to walk after that."

Jon and Ryan laugh and Spencer says, "Poor...baby," around what is possibly the biggest yawn Brendon has ever seen.

Eventually Spencer sits up and gets himself back into his clothing, and Jon follows shortly after. Ryan stays by Brendon's side, breathing heavy, and Brendon thinks maybe he's fallen asleep.

"Up, up, Ryan Ross! There is partying still to do," Brendon says, sitting up and smacking Ryan's thigh hard.

"Ow, you fucker," Ryan says, but he's moving at least, lethargically grabbing for his pants. Jon hands Ryan his shirt and Ryan slides it over his shoulders and smiles at Jon. Brendon rolls his eyes when the two of them start making out, their fingers fumbling uselessly over the buttons of Ryan's shirt.

Brendon manages his underwear and jeans, but can't find his shirt anywhere. "I can't find my shirt," he announces to the room. Spencer snorts, and Jon and Ryan don't even stop kissing. "Fine," Brendon says. "I'll just go without."

Jon manages to pull his lips away from Ryan. "Spence, help him find his shirt. If he goes out like that, everyone will know exactly what we've been up to for the past hour."

Spencer rolls his eyes. "Says the guy with the sex hair. I'd really like to know why I, as the youngest, am the most professional at group sex."

Brendon gasps in mock-outrage and shoots Spencer his best pouty look. "That's it! I'm not wearing a shirt even if you find it. I've been slandered on my birthday. This cannot be borne, Spencer Smith."

Spencer laughs, leaning in to kiss Brendon enthusiastically on the mouth. "But it's your Journey t-shirt, Bren. You'll be bereft if we leave it behind," he says.

Brendon waves a hand in the air, unconcerned, and says, "Spoils of war, Spence. Also, it was totally, totally worth it."

Ryan says, "So. Good birthday, then?"

"The best," Brendon says happily. "Although. There is one thing that could make it better."

Jon laughs. "And what's that?"

"Beer. You should get me a beer, Jon."

Jon heaves a long-suffering sigh. "Well, okay. But only because it's your birthday."

Brendon grins. "Damn straight."


End file.
